Scorched

  I stretched out, wrapped my arms around him, and gave him a quick, tight hug. Settling back, I exhaled softly. “Thank you. For everything.”

  A quirky grin appeared. “You’re going to be okay.”

  “I know,” I said, without hesitation. “And even if I’m not okay, I’m going to be okay.”

  “Right.”

  I nodded and then turned, heading back to my suitcase. “Goodbye, Dave.”

  “Make yourself proud,” he called as I walked out. “Don’t forget, Andrea, make yourself proud.”

  That was something I wouldn’t forget as I walked down the wide hall, toward the doors leading to the reception area. Make yourself proud. That’s what mattered, because I could still be a daughter, a sister, a friend, and maybe even a girlfriend one day. I could be a teacher or I could be whatever I wanted. I could be all these things.

  This was the new normal—my new normal, and I was going to be brave. I was going to use that courage some had seen in me long before I ever had.

  Tanner

  My legs burned and my heart thundered as my sneakers pounded on the treadmill. The whole damn thing was shaking, but I didn’t slow down. It was early, way too damn early to be up and running, but once I woke up, I couldn’t go back to sleep.

  Forty-two days.

  It had been forty-two days since I’d last seen Andrea in the treatment facility. And those forty-two days felt like a lifetime ago.

  I knew she was out. She’d been out for the last week and a half, according to Sydney, and I hadn’t heard from her. There was an ache in my chest, but I’d meant what I’d said to her that day. I would wait as long as she needed me to and I wanted her to come to me when she was ready.

  I was not and could not be her first priority right then. I understood that and believed in that a hundred percent. She needed to take care of herself first, and if that required another forty-two days, then so be it.

  But I missed her. Fuck. I missed her.

  I missed her snappy comebacks and the way she gave as good as she got. I missed the sound of her husky, throaty laugh and the way her brown eyes reminded me of aged whiskey. I missed those tiny, feminine sounds she made, and I missed the way she said my name.

  I simply just missed her.

  And truthfully, I didn’t think of her differently. Yeah, I’d wanted to yell at her when I found out she’d been drinking and driving—she could’ve killed someone or herself. I was pissed, fucking in a rage, but the fact that she’d immediately gotten treatment and held herself responsible for her actions lessened that anger pretty quickly.

  I was just happy that she finally had an answer for why she turned to alcohol—that we all had an answer to why. Knowledge was everything, the only way she could get better. Having depression didn’t make me think less of her. Honestly, if anyone thought less of someone because of that, they could go fuck themselves.

  A huge part of me wanted to be there for her right then—wanted to help her in any way possible, to take care of her. But I knew she didn’t need that. Andrea didn’t need me to swoop in and save her. I knew damn well she could save herself.

  She would save herself.

  A beep intruded on the music blasting from my phone.

  Slowing down, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and hit the screen, revealing the text message.

  I straightened and almost fell off the damn machine. Smacking the stop button, I stared at the message, no longer feeling the burn in my calves or my lungs as my lips spread into a wide smile.

  Chapter 25

  Andrea

  A breeze rolled across campus, stirring the loose curls around my face. An hour had passed since Syd had dropped me off and I’d texted Tanner. My phone was in my purse beside me, and I hadn’t obsessively checked it. I didn’t know if he would come or not. It had been a while since he’d visited me in rehab and I’d gotten out. For all I knew, he could’ve moved on. It wasn’t like I expected him to seriously wait for me. People’s lives changed in a matter of minutes. That was the way life was, and he’d said he loved me, but while love was strong, things…things could change.

  It would suck if they had. Admittedly, there were many moments while in treatment that I did cling to the idea of him and me, the promise of a sweet future, and that dream had helped get me through the roughest of the moments, but if there wasn’t going to be us…I was going to be okay in the end. I’d be sad. I’d cry. And I’d want to take a drink, but I wouldn’t.

  Today, I was ready to face the future with or without him.

  Moving my hand to my wrist, I toyed with my newest fashion accessory. My über-chic medical-alert bracelet that made people aware of the fact I was spleen-less. It wasn’t like I’d drop at any given moment without a spleen, but I was more susceptible to infectious diseases. Good news was I didn’t have to take antibiotics every day, but one of the first things I’d done when I’d left rehab was get all kinds of immunizations.

  It was just another way my life…my life had changed.

  While I’d been in rehab, I hadn’t been on medication to treat the chemical imbalance. At first, they had wanted to try a more…holistic approach, considering I had addictive tendencies—talking, developing coping skills, and all that jazz. After a few weeks, though, they knew I needed more. So, another thing I had done within the last couple of days was pick up my prescription. It was strange thinking that I might have to be on the medication for the rest of my life, but it was far better than the alternative.

  I watched a bird hop across the grass as it twitched its wings. The little guy stopped, glanced in my direction and then took flight. It flew to a nearby branch and landed, rattling the leaves. I’d watched the leaves changing color while I was in rehab. No longer green, a few that remained on the branches dropped to the ground in lazy spirals. A shadow fell over me.

  My breath hitched in my throat as I lifted my gaze.

  Tanner stood at the other end of the bench, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark denim jeans. He had a dark blue baseball cap on, and it was pulled low, shielding his eyes.

  For a moment, neither of us moved or said a word, but then one side of his lips quirked up in a lopsided grin. “Hey,” he said.

  My heart was pounding fast and that hope was a wildfire burning in my chest. “You came.”

  “Of course I did.” He sat beside me, so close his thigh pressed against mine. His eyes never left my face. He stared at me so long I felt my cheeks start to heat.

  “What?” I whispered. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  His grin spread. “You just look different. I don’t know what it is. Maybe because it’s been forty-two days since I last saw you.”

  My brows flew up. “You’ve been keeping track of the days?”

  “Hell yeah, I have been.” He angled his body toward me, dropping his arm along the back of the bench. “I’ve missed you, Andy. You look good—great. Beautiful.”

  “I’ve missed you, too,” I admitted.

  His shoulders loosened as if some unseen tension bled out of him. “So…did you talk to your advisor?”

  I blinked, surprised. “How did you know about that?”

  Tanner grinned. “Not to sound creepy, but I’ve been keeping myself updated on what you’ve been doing.” When I arched a brow, he looked sheepish. “I’ve asked Sydney. I know I could’ve asked you, but I wanted—no, I knew I needed to give you time.”

  Syd hadn’t said anything to me about it. Part of me could understand why. The other half wanted to throttle her. “I did talk to my advisor. I was…I was honest about why I missed virtually half the semester. There’s no making up lost time at this point, but they’re going to work with me. He’s checking to see how tuition can be moved to next semester, and we’re checking to see how having a DUI on my record may affect future employment.” Saying DUI out loud was still hard, but I needed to speak it, because that made it real. “It could be tricky with teaching.”

  “What will you do then, if it
does impact that?”

  That was an important question. Good thing I’d spent a lot of time thinking about it. “You remember how you kept asking why I wasn’t going to become a therapist? Turns out that might be a good option.”

  His smile was back, spreading across his face. “I like the sound of that.”

  I grinned as I shrugged. “Obviously, I have firsthand experience with some of these things, and I think…I think I could help other people. I don’t know. It’s something I’m considering. I have time to decide and I can change my mind. I’m okay with that—with either one. Nothing is written in stone.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed, lightly knocking his knee against mine. “You can do whatever you want.”

  “It’s such a…a relief knowing that,” I said, and I could tell that he was surprised by the fact I’d spoken that out loud. I was even a little bit surprised, but I’d been surprising myself every day recently. I drew in a deep breath as I glanced out over the grassy knoll. “When you visited me, you said—”

  “I told you that I loved you,” he cut in, and my heart jumped a little. “That hasn’t changed, Andy. I love you.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “I didn’t know if you’d still feel that way.”

  “Why? Did you think how I felt would change because you have depression?” he asked, his gaze unwavering as he reached up and twisted his cap backward. “Andy, I really hope you don’t think that badly of me.”

  “No,” I immediately replied. “You’re a wonderful person.”

  “And so are you. You are an amazing person, Andrea. Frankly, you did something so many people never do. You realized you had a problem and willingly got help for it. Yeah, it took something drastic and it could’ve been worse, but you did it. You turned your life around and you’re still turning your life around.”

  I blinked back sudden tears. Oh gosh, he was going to make me ugly cry.

  “Like I told you before, you made a shitty decision that could’ve been so much worse. You could’ve died. You could’ve killed someone else. You’re lucky that those two things didn’t happen, but you didn’t wallow in that and make more mistakes. You owned what you did and what could’ve happened. I saw your heart break when you told me. You had already realized how badly that night could’ve gone. You didn’t fight what your family wanted. You willingly went into rehab and stayed longer than the minimum. You got help, and Andrea, you have my upmost respect for that. Seriously.”

  Tanner smiled at me. “You are incredibly courageous and you’re remarkably strong. You’re beautiful and you’re funny. And you are kind,” he continued. “Why wouldn’t I feel the same way about you?”

  “But I…” I almost stopped right there, kept what I wanted and needed to say to myself. Almost. Part of healing and getting better was to be honest. To speak. To not bottle everything up. “I have baggage. Real baggage. I’m working on it, but I know there are going to be moments when I’m annoying and it’s going to be hard. So hard. That’s a lot to want to be a part of.”

  “You don’t see me running, do you?”

  I shook my head.

  “And I want you to know something else, okay? I hear you.”

  My throat closed up. “Tanner…”

  “I hear you. Okay? I’m always going to hear you,” he said, and my heart broke and was stitched back together in the same moment. He’d remembered what I’d told him about the people who called the hotline, just needing someone to hear them. He tipped his chin to the side. “I just have one question for you, Andy.”

  “What?” I whispered, still desperately trying to prevent the tears from falling.

  “Why in the world did you have paint and summer sausage in your car?”

  His words took a moment to sink in and when they did, a shaky laugh escaped me, and that laugh…it turned into a longer, deeper one that lasted. And goodness, it felt good, that full-body laugh. Tears snuck out the corners of my eyes, and I wiped them away, still chuckling. “Yeah, I bet…I bet that was a weird combo for everyone to see.”

  “It was.” He lifted his hand, carefully swiping away a tear. “I missed your laugh.”

  Blinking my eyes, I met his stare. “So have I.”

  “I have something to tell you.” He leaned in so close I could almost taste his kiss. “You’ve ruined me,” he said against my mouth, his breath hot. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else. You know that, right?”

  My heart was pounding again, but this time for a very good reason. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”

  He rested his forehead against mine. “Ruined me in the best possible way. So yeah, it’s a good thing.”

  “You really want to do this?” I asked.

  Tanner stared into my eyes as he cupped my jaw, gently smoothing his thumb along my cheek. A naked Santa Claus could come prancing out from behind the trees, and I wouldn’t look away from those beautiful, brilliant blue eyes.

  “I love you, Andrea. I’m in love with you,” he said, voice firm. “And I’m going to be right here with you, through all of it. That’s what love makes you do.”

  Tilting my head, I brushed my lips over his in the lightest touch, but I felt it all the way through me, invading every cell with its warmth, and I made sure when he stared into my eyes, all he saw was happiness. “I love you, Tanner. I love you,” I said. “Do you see it?”

  Tanner made a deep sound in his chest, and it rumbled through me. His hands trembled as he said, “I see it. I see the happiness.”

  Hope that had sparked in my chest now lit a fire, and I fanned it, wanting it to burn hot and bright, because hope… hope was not the enemy. It was a friend, a savior. Hope was more than a new beginning. Hope was tomorrow, and hope was the symbol that I would get better, that I would undo the bad choices that I’d made, and that I would never make them again. Hope was more than a chance of redemption. It was the promise of one day finding absolution, of forgiving myself.

  But it was more than that. Hope was also today, and today was so very important. There would be no more rushing through seconds and minutes. I promised myself that. I was going to live, and it was going to be hard at times. There would be setbacks and days when everything would feel dull and tarnished somehow, but I had hope and I had the knowledge to face what was causing me to suffer. I had my friends. I had Tanner.

  And most importantly, I had myself.

  Two months later…

  Andrea

  “Your parents like me.”

  I grinned as I glanced over to where Tanner stood in the doorway of my bedroom, watching me tug the rings off my fingers and drop them in the little jewelry box on my dresser. “I think they like you too.”

  He folded his arms across his broad chest, stretching the plain white T-shirt he’d worn under the button-down. His dress shirt had come off the moment we’d entered my apartment and now hung over the back of a chair. “Everyone likes me.”

  Laughing, I rolled my eyes, but truthfully, the fact my parents had openly welcomed Tanner had me giddy with relief. I’d held off on formally introducing them to Tanner, waiting until now, a few days before Christmas, before bringing him to Sunday dinner.

  Once the rings were off, I kicked off my heels and moved to the center of the bedroom. “Seriously, though, they really do like you. I think Mom wants to adopt you.”

  He grinned. “I’m all about being adopted by rich doctors, except that would make things a bit awkward between you and me.”

  “Just a little.” I walked toward him, my heart fluttering as he pushed off the doorframe and met me halfway. I slipped my arms around his waist. Hugging him tight, I pressed my cheek against his chest.

  One of his hands curved around the back of my head and the other landed on the small of my back. He didn’t speak as we held each other, and that was okay. I was…content with the quiet moment, with me just listening to his heart beat steadily.

  It was peaceful.

  The last couple of months had been a mixture of failure a
nd triumph, of peace and chaos as Tanner and I had navigated my sobriety and treatment together. It hadn’t been all easy. There had been times when I’d wanted nothing more than to take a drink, like when I thought about Tanner leaving for the academy or when the seemingly never-ending consequences of my actions resurfaced to give me a nice smack in the face, reality style.

  Dave had suggested that I take some time away from volunteering at the hotline and the hospitals. The admins in charge had agreed, feeling it would be best for me to take a break. It was a nice way of them saying they weren’t confident I could handle the pressure, and I understood that. As much as it sucked, I really did understand. And I also understood that while the depression wasn’t my fault, the way I had coped with it had been a terrible decision, and I was going to have to prove that I was capable of handling my illness and stress.

  I still worried about the long-term consequences—what having a DUI on my record would mean for employment and the fact I was still adapting to living without a spleen. I still dealt with the guilt over my parents stepping forward and paying the assload of fines associated with my DUI and the lawyer fees that had enabled me to avoid jail time. I’d been lucky, with no previous record, and the fact that I had willingly entered rehab and had stayed beyond the required minimum had helped.

  But some days it was hard to look in the mirror, and every so often, I wondered how Dave did it every day.

  Over the last couple of months there had been times when I’d come really close to picking up a beer, telling myself it was just one beer and one beer wasn’t going to hurt me. But I’d been able to catch myself and stop that line of thinking. Because one beer would hurt me. I was a binge drinker. One beer would not be enough. I wouldn’t stop after it touched my tongue. And the times when the desire was too great for common sense to make a difference, I had my friends. I had Tanner.

  The thing about alcoholism and depression, I was learning, was that it wasn’t a one-person problem. It affected everyone you came into contact with, sometimes in ways you didn’t even know, and not necessarily negatively either. People wanted to help you. They wanted to understand. You just had to let them.